3 Weeks, 1 Backpack

Not even a proper backpacker’s backpack, just a standard book bag.

Chillin' with a blowfish (pez globo in Spanish)

I am now in the comfort of my own, warm, Christmas-adorned home, where I will be for the next five days, but I spent the first part of the month getting to know some different cities within Colombia. I went from jungle trekking to scuba diving to historic city meandering. All wonderful.

Traveling is an art. It can be done lavishly or on a shoestring, hastily or lackadaisically, methodically or spontaneously, or some permutation of the aforementioned. No matter how you choose to do it, it opens your eyes to a simplified way of life. Restricted either by airline weight regulations or those of your own carrying capacity, you can only bring so much shit along with you. And you still probably bring more than you need.

Me and some militaries at La Ciudad Perdida (Lost City)

I’ve got more stuff than I’ll ever know what to do with. This particular trip made me appreciate the bare necessities. Uphill hikes through the jungle make insect repellent and a decently-sized water bottle much more important than spare sets of clothing, especially when everything you have will get wet anyways. And you can forget about a brush, hairdryer, straightner, or makeup of any sort. Not at all relevant. Your alarm clock is the sun, a bothersome rooster, or your noisy neighbors, whichever comes first.

Another thing I realized on this trip is that I’ve always liked to have a plan. I still do. There are many benefits to a plan. But sometimes you have to be willing to throw the plan to the wind. Make a new plan. Don’t stick with something just because you’re already mentally, physically, or financially invested in it. In psychology we call this the sunk cost effect. Basically, the impending dissonance involved in accepting that we messed up or had another, better option keeps us stubborn, resistant to change, or blindly hopeful. The funny thing is, children under the age of 2 and monkeys do not demonstrate this principle. So apparently, you have to be pretty smart and “rational” to do something so stupid.

Ready for a night out in Taganga

My mom used to tell me that I would say, “I didn’t even know I wanted this” when I would open a present that I liked yet hadn’t specifically noted on my Santa Wish List. Same goes for life. Not everything can be planned for or predetermined because you don’t always know you want something until it’s in your lap. Don’t wrap it back up just because it’s not part of the plan. Go on, take the money and run. – Steve Miller Band

There's No Place Like Home

Little Dorothy has had it right all along. Although I wasn’t “home home” per say this weekend; it sure felt like it.

This weekend I was reminded of so many things that I already know. But it feels good to be reminded. I was reminded of how strikingly beautiful Vanderbilt’s campus is on a warm, cloudless, October afternoon; of how you can’t go wrong with the plethora of options in a Panera’s You-Pick-Two; of how despite now being 23 I think I will always prefer a good frat party over a bar; and of how peanut butter and conditioner make a perfect combo for getting gum out of your hair. Exponentially more importantly, I was reminded of the value of true friendship; of the joy of a good surprise; of the strength of a mother’s love; of the comfort of sharing with those you trust; of the solidity of an honest, dedicated father; and of happiness so genuine it’s hard to keep down an obnoxious smile.

So why leave? Good question.

For me, the adrenaline, the leap of faith, and the test of personal strength and perseverance is just as important as the comfort of the familiar. When it comes to my room and my eating habits, I like it the same: if it’s not broken, don’t fix it. But when it comes to life experiences, I’m incessantly asking for more, for new. I think I have been able to love and appreciate travel because of how much I love home, not in spite of it. So thanks; I miss you already.